Elementary, my dear Granger
by EggOnYourFace
Summary: After the events of the Triwizard Tournament, Dumbledore seeks to improve wizarding relations with Muggles by asking every student to bring a piece of Muggle literature with them, to be enjoyed by all in the library. But when characters literally leap off the page and people go missing, it's up to Hermione to figure out who is behind the magic.
1. Prologue

**Hi all! Just some notes on this story; the idea for it came to me before Order of the Pheonix was published, way back in about 2004 when I was first writing fanfic. For some reason, I was thinking about it again recently and decided to write it up and see what you chaps think of it. So, it's still set in 5th year, with some tweeks to make the idea slot into canon (in some ways anyway) but mostly it's my ideas from ten years ago, roughly cobbled together to make up a plot. Enjoy!**

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Events that have recently unfolded threaten the unity of the wizarding world. Though the time to fight is not yet upon us, we must strive for understanding and knowledge, to bring all walks of life together as one against those who would try to tear us apart. But it is not just wizards to whom we ought to offer this hand of friendship; our Muggle brethren do not have the luxury of our power, and so they stand helpless against a threat from which they must be forever unaware. If and when the time comes, students of Hogwarts must be the first to defend the Muggles, but we cannot do this without knowledge of their ways first._

_Therefore, to enhance relations between wizards and Muggles, every student is required to bring with them one piece of Muggle literature to Hogwarts next year. In order to bring an end to rumour of wizarding superiority over those we are duty bound to protect, we must first educate ourselves in their ways and art; only with knowledge can an era of tolerance begin._

_Please do enjoy the rest of your holidays, I will rejoice in seeing you all once more._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Hermione read the letter again, well aware that she'd already missed one train to London and missing another would mean she'd be late for tea with the Weasleys. She stared blankly at her parent's study walls, wall to wall books filling each nook and cranny, each one worthy of a place in Hogwarts. She could only pick one.

Just the one.

One.

Something told her she wouldn't be eating for a while.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Hermione looked over her shoulder as she hustled the first years onto the train. She saw Harry talking with Neville, disappearing into a compartment. She bit her lip; it seemed as though he was expecting her and Ron to sit with him, forgetting that they were prefects now.

"Was that Harry Potter?" one first year girl with a large nose said loudly.

"Isn't he that lunatic who said You-Know-Who's back?" said a boy, clutching a kitten.

"Watch who you call lunatic, pipsqueak," Ron snarled, making the boy jump and drop his kitten. Hermione scooped it up and gave the startled animal back to her equally startled owner, who fled from the towering prefect into an empty compartment.

"So that's him traumatised, well done Ron," Hermione said as she helped another boy lift his suitcase into a compartment.

"I don't like name calling, especially when it's about my best mate. Oi you, mind where you're shoving that broomstick!" Ron shouted to a particularly clumsy second year. Hermione stifled a giggle and, slowly but surely, eased the pandemonium on the train until she and the other prefects were the only people who hadn't settled down into a compartment yet. Ron automatically went to find Harry, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

"We've got to sit with the other prefects, remember?" she said, but still felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning Harry. Still, he had Neville with him, what's the worst that could happen?

She and Ron walked into the prefects compartment – magically stretched to the size of the Gryffindor common room, it was very nice indeed, with its own sweet trolley, long, lounging sofas and comfy, squashy chairs. The older prefects chatted amicably, greeting the fifth years as they nervously edged around the door. Hermione only recognised a few, waving to Ernie MacMillan as he seemed to be networking with the Head Boy. She noticed a change in conversation – only slight, but she knew that everyone would now be talking about them and Harry. She and Ron sat alone in the chairs next to the window, making idle small talk (seemingly, the only topic of conversation outside of strictly confidential Order work was the weather) until a sixth year Ravenclaw sat in the chair opposite them, reading _Pride and Prejudice_.

"Oh, is that your Muggle book for the library?" Hermione asked her, eager to stop talking about the rain.

"Wait, this? No, this is for me, I couldn't part with this. I brought _The Hobbit_ for the library collection, I thought it'd be fun to see how Muggles think wizards and elves act. I'm Ellie by the way, Ellie Sidebottom." She smiled and held out her hand, which Hermione shook, Ron trying his hardest to not laugh. Hermione subtly trod on his toe, keen not to offend the only person in the room who hadn't shot them a worried look in the past half hour.

"I'm Hermione, this is Ron. I didn't think we could bring more than one book, I wouldn't have worried so much!" she said, Ellie laughing.

"Oh I know; I had the same problem until I read the letter again – one book for the library, but no limit on how many I could bring for myself, so I brought all of my Jane Austen's with me this year. How about you Ron, did you have any difficulty?"

"Picking a book? Nah, we only had these old James Bond ones in my house, I just grabbed the first one and went with that, it's only a book after all," Ron said, but Ernie had heard him and gasped with theatrical grandeur.

"You have James Bond? I have all of those, including the Sebastian Faulks novels! You must let me read it, I couldn't bear to separate them - I miss them already!" he said, the Head Boy laughing as he took out his own copy of _Patriot Games_.

"It's not Bond, but it does well for me. What did you bring with you anyway?" he said, and soon all five of them were talking like old friends. Ernie breathlessly told Ron the plot for _Casino Royale_, as Hermione and Ellie discovered a mutual love of Regency poetry. They poured over Hermione's copy of _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ and Ellie recited her favourite verses in an excellent old seadog impersonation to everyone's great amusement. Only later did Hermione realise that she was chatting about something which wasn't war, wasn't You-Know-Who and wasn't anything other than books they all enjoyed. After months of Harry's temper, Mrs Weasley's tears and being constantly, painfully aware that any one of her friends could be dead tomorrow, it was extremely pleasant to be talking about something as mundane as spy novels and poetry.

The Head Boy, who introduced himself as Antony Whitaker from Hufflepuff, broke the happy gathering by announcing that they were nearly at Hogsmeade and needed to start informing the students. Waving goodbye to Ellie, Hermione began knocking on doors with Ron, her new prefect badge shining on her pressed robes. She was beginning to enjoy herself, until she saw Harry through his compartment window.

"Harry? What happened? Why on earth are you all sticky?" she said as she opened the door, Neville looking abashed and another girl wearing strange glasses seemingly unaware of her presence.

"Neville's plant attacked me about two hours ago and I can't get rid of the residue. Any chance of a cleaning spell? Only I think I smell something burning and it might be me". Neville apologised again, mumbling something about his plant. Hermione flicked her wand, Harry suddenly free from plant fluid. "Thanks a million, are you staying here for a bit?" Harry looked happier, certainly, and Hermione was sorely tempted to try and cheer up her friend more, but as the train whistle blew, she knew she had to go.

"I'm sorry Harry, but they need the prefects at the top of the train. See you at dinner though?"

"Yeah, sorry – yeah, cool, see you later," he said, the smile sliding of his face, replaced by a sullen look Hermione had grown used to over the summer. Hermione hoped he understood; a row outside the Great Hall was not her idea of a fun start to the year.

Thankfully, Harry was very agreeable over dinner, making Ron snort with laughter with his stories from _The Quibbler_, even seeing the funny side to Cho Chang walking in on him with Mimbulus Mimbletonia juice sprayed all over him. In fact, it was one of the nicer dinners they'd had together in a while, until the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher gave her speech. Hermione pursed her lips; this Umbridge was not good news, especially if Harry recognised her from his Ministry hearing. Ron tried to ask her what the matter was; she shushed him, promising to discuss it later. Dumbledore stood once again, the confused whispering after Umbridge's ominous speech halting instantly.

"Thank you Professor, for your enlightening words. Now as you all know, you were asked to bring a piece of Muggle Literature with you, regardless of age, stature or type, so that we may learn more about our non-magical neighbours _thank you Professor Umbridge that will be all_." Umbridge sat down again, closing her mouth, but she looked furious for some reason. Hermione definitely did not like her.

"Yes," Dumbledore continued as though nothing had happened, "Knowledge and understanding is key in the days ahead of us, and I hope that these works of Muggle minds will at least entice some of you into the library, I know it's been quite some time since I myself have stepped foot in there. And now if you will be so kind as to sit still to avoid potential decapitation..." Dumbledore waved his wand in a complex pattern, and hundreds of books roared through the Great Hall into the air, flying spectacularly towards the library. The students gasped as the books zoomed past, flapping their pages like wings as they spiralled and tumbled through the air, over the tables and out of sight. Hermione saw Ellie summon her _Pride and Prejudice_ and snatched it out of the air. Ellie grinned at her across the tables, wiping her brow in mock relief. Once the last book had gone, they all applauded loudly, Fred and George whistling and demanding an encore.

"Thank you, you're too kind. Now, bed time for all, work begins in earnest tomorrow," Dumbledore said jovially, but Hermione noticed that he had turned sharply to Umbridge as the students stood and ambled towards their common rooms. As she and Ron marshalled the first year Gryffindor's to the dormitory, she heard little talk which was not about Dumbledore's flying books. "I guess you won't be having the library to yourself anymore," Ron said, smiling at Hermione.

She sighed in mock anguish. "No, I suppose I'll have to get used to other people reading now." Ron playfully punched her arm, and they lead the excited new students to their new home and new school year.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, please leave a comment! That would most definitely be the polite thing to do.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Elementary, My Dear Granger: Chapter Two **

* * *

Apart from Umbridge's predictably awful teaching methods, Hermione was thoroughly enjoying her lessons, but was somehow unable to convey her enthusiasm for Ancient Runes to Ron, who was quite remarkably behind in all of his homework by the second week. He seemed more interested in Quidditch, which Hermione couldn't understand, as it seemed to make him depressed every time he flew. The breakfast after a particularly wet practice, she decided to speak up after Ron darkly hinted Angelina should sack him for being 'mentally rubbish'.

"You can fly Ron, you're really good! You just need to prioritise more, you're worrying too much about it and it's hurting your Transfiguration homework," she said, packing he bag to go to her first lesson. Ron shot her a dark look and returned to his porridge.

"Leave it Hermione, he knows Angelina wouldn't do anything like that," Harry said, nursing his bandaged hand from the previous nights detention punishment.

"All I'm saying is that there's more to life than Quidditch, Ron," she said, causing Harry to roll his eyes and Ron to look at her incredulously, his mouth too full of porridge to speak. "There is! You haven't even started reading _Casino Royale _yet and you promised Ernie you would!"

"Well, Ernie can go – hey, what's happening over there?" Ron said, pointing to a large crowd around the Ravenclaw table. Hermione's prefect instinct took over and she rushed to the table, where she was surprised to see Ellie, surrounded by students and talking animatedly.

"Ellie, what's going on?" Hermione asked as she got near enough to make herself heard over the chattering girls.

"Oh, Hermione! You won't believe it, it's amazing! Mr Darcy!" She said breathlessly.

"What?"

"Mr Darcy! He was here! Well, in the common room anyway, he just-" but she snapped her mouth shut, as a tiny voice coughed behind them.

"And what, may I ask, is happening here?" Umbridge said with a sickly smile Hermione had come to loathe already.

"Er, I was just telling these girls about, er, the man I saw in my, er, copy of _The Prophet_, Professor. He was very good looking," Ellie lied lamely.

"Well we're all girls here, but it hardly seems appropriate for a prefect to be disrupting breakfast so, does it, Miss Sidebottom? Ten points from Ravenclaw and I will be speaking with Professor Flitwick about your current status as prefect," she said. Ellie blanched and Umbridge smiled again, turning her heel and primly walking back to the teachers table.

"Absolute cow. I'm free second period, can I talk to you then?" Ellie said, her voice low as the girls around them dispersed, embarrassed. "Meet you outside Charms? It's really important, you'll love it."

* * *

Hermione walked quickly, as Arithmancy had overrun and she was late for Ellie. She rounded a corner, and she was there, bouncing on her heels but smiling.

"Sorry, Professor Vector lost track of time – so go on, what was all that about before?" Hermione said, somewhat out of breath from her quick marching pace. Ellie beckoned her inside the empty Charms classroom and shut the door behind her.

"Sorry, but Umbridge might walk past and demote me to third year for breathing – it was so weird! I was reading my book, and I was up to the bit where Mr Darcy is telling Lady Catherine how he feels about Lizzy –"

"Oh I love that part!"

"I know right? But anyway, I looked away for a bit, I think someone needed to borrow my quill, I turned around and he was there!" Ellie stood still, her mouth wide open in a silent squeal. Hermione, confused, copied her stance.

"Oh my god! _Who_ was there?" she said, mocking Ellie's excited tone and gestures. Ellie closed her mouth and put her hands to her sides.

"Mr Darcy was in my common room. Mr Darcy. He looked around and bowed to me, I was so shocked I knocked the table over and he sort of disappeared, but it was really him." Hermione subconsciously took a step back and Ellie groaned. "Look, it was this tall, dark haired man dressed like it was the 18th century, who else could it have been?"

"I just think you're leaping to conclusions, you're not being logical – how do you know it wasn't one of the ghosts?"

"Because he was _there_! He was solid, he was _real_!" Hermione just shook her head and picked up her bag. "Right, so it doesn't make sense, but there could be some magical explanation, there has to be! I'm not crazy, Luna Lovegood was there and she saw him too," Ellie said, obviously frustrated. Hermione, having met Luna the week before, didn't think she strengthened Ellie's assertion that a fictional 18th gentleman would mysteriously materialise in the Ravenclaw common room, only to drop off the face of the earth again. Ellie ran her fingers through her hair.

"Alright, so say you're right-"

"Which I am."

"- How can someone replicate the circumstances? If it is magic, there has to be a method. What were you doing before you started reading, how was the table set out?" Hermione said, crossing her arms. Ellie closed her eyes, obviously visualising the common room.

"I'd finished my Potions homework, my text book was on the table next to my parchment. After that, I got my book out of my bag with my wand; I think I need it to correct some spelling mistakes... I read for a bit and when someone asked me for my quill, I put my wand over the page so I wouldn't lose my place." She opened her eyes, satisfied that she'd given a full picture. Hermione still couldn't see it.

Bidding a deflated Ellie goodbye, she walked in deep thought. She'd heard many an urban legend about magic, such as men becoming unexpectedly pregnant, which Lavender insisted happened to her aunt's piano teacher's son. It annoyed her that some people just assumed magic happened without understanding any of its theoretical and practical limitations. She'd never thought of Ellie as an air head, but it seemed so unlike her to make up something so unusual; she would be the first to admit she was biased towards fellow Jane Austen fans, but surely this was a step too far? She bumped into someone, snapping her out of her pensive mood – she'd unconsciously walked into the library, something Ron would have probably made a remark about. Walking to the new Muggle section, she was happy to see several people there, whispering about the different books, comics and indeed pamphlets on offer. She saw her own Samuel Taylor Coleridge collection and automatically picked it up. Just for old times' sake, not for purposes of an experiment she was suddenly drawn to, absolutely not.

* * *

"Looks interesting that. No really, it does," Harry said, Hermione smiling. Curled up in the common room chair by the fire, she was struggling with the library's only copy of _Magical Books and Their Various Properties _by Archibald Humberton-Smith.

"Yeah, I've got the sequel, didn't quite pack the punch," Ron said, obviously keen to be distracted from his Potions essay.

"For once, I think I agree with you," Hermione sighed, putting the tome down next to her poetry book. "As far as I can tell, he doesn't say anything about magic and Muggle books and there's no index, so it's impossible to find anything in there."

"Why do you want to know about magic and Muggle books?" Harry asked.

"Just something Ellie said today, apparently Mr Darcy frequents the Ravenclaw common room now." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yeah I know, she said Luna saw him too, but who knows what goes on her mind?" Harry shifted in his seat but didn't say anything.

"Sorry, who's Mr Darcy? Is he like James Bond?" Ron asked. Harry grinned, his previous consternation gone from his features.

"Yeah, in that if he's real it'll soon become very hard to get any sense out of Hogwarts' female population," he said, Hermione throwing a cushion at him affably.

"What this means though that either Ellie is suffering a very strange mental breakdown, or it's an entirely unprecedented form of magic which could change the fabric of reality as we know it."

"So a normal Wednesday for us then," Ron said, and Harry laughed loudly, his face breaking into one of the first genuine smiles Hermione had seen in a while. She felt a sudden wave of affection for him, as though the dour man she'd known all summer was slowly being replaced by her best friend. The rest of the evening was spent coming up with different theories for how a man could appear and disappear without Apparition, and the common room slowly emptied as the night drew on. Bidding Harry and Ron a goodnight, Hermione stared at her books, aware of her solitude. Wondering what harm could come of it, she organised them just as Ellie had described her own table, placing Ron's forgotten Potions textbook next to her Coleridge book. She flipped open the latter, carefully placed her wand on the pages, and waited. Several minutes passed, and as she was about to give up and go to bed herself, she heard a voice whisper behind her:

_And now there came both wind and snow, and it grew monstrous cold. And ice mast-high came floating by as green as emerald..._

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she gaped, mouth open in horror, at her book. A thin sea mist seemed to grow from the pages, a distant creak of a ship's bow joined the sinister voice and, as though coming from another realm, a glistening hand began to reach up from the pages. Hermione, unaware that she was screaming, snatched her wand and slammed the book shut. Silence rang in her ears; she was alone once more.


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this so far – I'm hoping to keep on updating every Sunday, and it's a real boost to see that you're enjoying it! There'll be more characters coming, has anyone got any particular preferences to see characters here? **

Hermione didn't sleep a wink that night. Instead, the first Gryffindors down for breakfast found her clutching a glass bottle like a sports bat, staring at her books as though they were particularly gruesome vermin which she would swat at the first sign of movement. When someone tapped her on her shoulder, she wheeled around with a glazed panic in her eyes and leapt up, realised her legs had gone to sleep and fell awkwardly, her bottle smashing on the fire place hearth. Ron had just come downstairs, suddenly fully awake at the commotion.

"Hermione? Have you been here all night?" He asked walking towards her as a scared second year helped up the slightly deranged looking prefect.

"The books... the books are alive," she said, her voice course from lack of use.

"What?"

"The books, Ron! The books are alive!" She grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. "The Ancient Mariner, he was here! He's alive!"

"Er... what? Who's alive?"

"Dumbledore, I need to see Dumbledore, he'll know, he'll make it OK again." Hermione let go of Ron and rubbed her face, the bags under her eyes as prominent as they had been in third year.

"Maybe you should shower first, maybe some sleep –"

"NO! Dumbledore, I need Dumbledore!"

And with that, she gathered her wand, her books and swept out of the common room, leaving Ron utterly perplexed.

Charging down the corridors, she tried to think logically. A very fictional and very scary person had invaded Hogwarts last night, and he wasn't the first, if Ellie was to be believed. What if You-Know-Who could get in like this? Was it just the Muggle books that could do this? Was it Transfiguration? Had she just gone mental and was all this a very elaborate fantasy? More importantly, who else had figured out that magic makes characters come alive? She saw Dumbledore conversing intensely with a painting and breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Oh Professor, I need to... talk..."

It wasn't Dumbledore. His beard was the wrong colour and Hermione saw the gnarled, wooden staff he was holding. The robes were all wrong too, she'd never seen Dumbledore wear that much grey either.

"My dear girl, are you quite alright?" The man asked, the portrait straining to see her over his pointy hat.

"_Reducto!" _She screamed, red light erupting from her wand directly at the man. She staggered back as nothing happened to him, covering her mouth as she ran in the opposite direction, away from the wizard who was shouting after her. Eventually, she burst into the Great Hall and sprinted up to the teacher's table, the real Dumbledore reading a newspaper quite serenely. McGonagall looked at Hermione, perturbed.

"Miss Granger, what on Earth is the matter?"

"Pro – professors, sorry, but I – I," She gulped, trying to catch her breath. "Please Professor Dumbledore, I need to speak with you urgently." He folded his newspaper and stood. So too did Umbridge.

"I believe Miss Granger will need a moment alone, Dolores. She appears to have had a trying morning," he said, gesturing for Hermione to follow him.

"I'm sure that anything that has to be said to the Headmaster can also be said to the High Inquisitor," she replied neatly, following him. Only Hermione saw a steely flash across his face but he said nothing as both women silently walked with him to his office. Once inside, he conjured Hermione a winged back arm chair and a violently pink drink. "Here, this will clear your head Miss Granger. Now, what is the problem?" She sipped; her tiredness slipped away from her as her mind was enveloped in a cool, welcome clearness. Taking a breath to gather her thoughts, she told Dumbledore everything that had happened since yesterday morning, being careful to not mention anyone else by name. Dumbledore said nothing, resting his hands under his chin in great concentration. Umbridge was not so quiet though; her constant tutting and eye rolling made Hermione want to shove her out of the window.

"I see," Dumbledore said when Hermione had finished. "What do you make of this though Miss Granger?" Umbridge scoffed.

"Well, sir," she said, benefiting from a clear head and time to gather herself. "It's got to be something to do with the books. I read last night that magical books have personalities and a kind of sentience, like portraits do. But magic can't catch, can it? And why are the characters coming to life? It makes no sense."

"On the contrary Miss Granger, it makes more sense than you realise. I believe that these books, once mundane, are now magic, but without the outlet magical books usually enjoy, they've responded differently. Where some books bite and others point out your personal physical flaws, these Muggle books appear to be projecting their reader's imagination." Umbridge threw up her hands in dramatic frustration.

"You can't really be serious, Headmaster! Granger's obviously just attention seeking, her crowd all are."

"_Miss _Granger is the most scrupulously honest and intelligent student we have, Professor; I see no reason for her to lie, let alone lie to me. May I see your book, please?" Hermione gave him her poetry book wordlessly. He waved his wand in a complex pattern, a haze of shapes and words appearing over it. He sat back, satisfied.

"As I thought; yes, I'm not going to enjoy the next Governor's meeting. It appears that my transfiguration stunt at the Feast triggered a chain reaction of magic. I was very foolish and I apologise for your sleepless night Miss Granger."

Umbridge was almost beside herself. "Headmaster! I demand an explanation or I will have the Minister for Magic fire you tomorrow! _What. Is. Happening_?" Dumbledore looked at her, as if he were looking at a petulant child.

"I will show you, Professor, though perhaps not with this book," he said, handing Hermione back her book and summoning another. "Yes, this will do nicely; I must admit I'm rather excited," he said, opening up a battered copy of _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. He placed his wand carefully on the page and waited. Then, like the previous night, a whisper filled the room, but this one sounded less menacing and more... depressed?

"_Pardon me for breathing, which I never do anyway so I don't know why I bother saying _it... Oh look, another surprise. I guess this is my lot in life isn't it, always jumping from one dimension to another without so much as a how's-your-father about it". The robot, who had grown out of the pages of the book like a blossoming flower that really didn't fancy it all today, looked around him, saw Umbridge cowering behind a table and Hermione sat open mouthed. Dumbledore smiled brightly. "I presume you're Marvin the Paranoid Android?"

"Yes, but that name makes me very depressed. What's the point in having a massive brain if people only know you for one character trait, which, may I add, is wrong anyway? I'm not paranoid; everything really is out to get me." He looked down to where Umbridge had just fired a spell at him. "See? No peace, not even a five minute rest from things trying to kill me. Do you mind if you send me back now? I'm sure they don't miss me, but I was in the middle of a conversation there", the robot said, gloomily. Hermione reached across and shut the book, Marvin disappearing into nothingness. Umbridge stood, quivering with fear and rage. Hermione was quite surprised by her own lack of fear; in the broad morning light, a harmless book character suddenly seemed much less scary.

"Well... I see... Can we remove the books from the premises, professor?" Umbridge asked, her voice icily cool.

"I should think not. Madame Pince has set powerful spells around the school to prevent library property from being taken away, she seems terrified by the prospect of students reading during the holidays." Hermione smiled weakly at Dumbledore. Umbridge picked up the book, turning it over in her hands.

"Well I think the only course of action is to burn them all then." She said flatly.

"No! You can't!" Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth, the words having already bolted from it. Dumbledore stood, towering over the diminutive woman.

"I can assure you that any such barbarism will be dealt with swiftly and finally, Professor Umbridge. If a single page is found to be damaged, you and only you will be held responsible, and will be to the fullest extent that my authority will allow. Do I make myself clear?" Umbridge seemed to bite her tongue, composing herself once more.

"Perfectly, Headmaster. No if you excuse me, I think I have a decree to draft before my first lesson." She walked out, haughtily, only pausing to drop the book outside the door. Dumbledore shook his head, wearily.

"I would ask you not to tell anyone about this conversation Miss Granger, but I believe that to now be a useless request. If there is nothing else, I think you should get some rest; I'll inform your teachers of your absence this morning, but I expect you to be ready for your afternoon classes." She thanked him and walked slowly back to her bedroom. If that boneheaded woman was going to make it a decree to not conjure characters, Hogwarts would very soon become more interesting than it had ever been before, which in itself would be a feat of high magic indeed.

**A/N: Exposition, exposition, who doesn't love exposition? I promise that the Sherlock fun is coming very, very soon. **


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